Page 76

The rush ends almost as abruptly as it began. The family leaves behind enough crumbs to suggest they dismantled several pieces of toast by hand. The construction workers return to whichever bridge or road brought them in. Randy tips me two dollars despite receiving decaf.

I carry the last tub of dishes toward the kitchen and set it beside the sink. Marge leans against the counter, pressing one hand to her lower back.

“You all right?” I ask.

“I’m too old to be carrying three plates in one hand, but too stubborn to stop.”

“That sounds inconvenient.”

“It is.”

I glance toward my booth. The driver’s manual remains open beside my empty plate and half cup of now-cold coffee, waiting as though I’ve merely stepped away for a moment.

Marge follows my gaze. “You did well.”

“I poured coffee.”

“You paid attention.” She lifts the pot and tops off a mug someone abandoned near the register, then seems to realize there’s no one there to drink it. “That’s harder to teach.”

“I almost dropped a fork.”

“But you didn’t.”

“The little girl saw.”

“She won’t tell.”

I smile.

Marge studies me for a moment, her expression quieter than it was during the rush. “So." She dries her hands on a towel. "Have you decided?"

"Decided what?"

"If you're staying."

A week ago, I would've said I didn't know. I would've talked about keeping my options open, seeing how things went, and giving myself time to think.

I glance around the diner at the tables I just cleared. The coffee pot sitting on the warmer and the tub of dirty dishes on the counter next to me/ The pink scooter sitting at Blackwater until I earn the right to ride it. None of it feels temporary anymore.

I meet Marge's eyes. "I think I am."

She smiles as if she'd already known the answer. "Good."

"Why?"

"Because if you're staying," she says, "you're going to need a job."

I blink. "I hadn’t thought about that yet."

"You might not have. But I did." Marge nods. "I’ve been watching you through that whole lunch rush.”

I frown. "That sounds mildly unsettling."

"It shouldn’t." She grins. "You jumped in without being asked twice. You noticed when coffee cups are empty. You remembered which table wanted extra toast, and which one needed more syrup. And not once did I hear you complain."

"I was just helping."

"I know." She folds the towel over the back of a chair before meeting my eyes. "And I'm asking if you'd like to do it again tomorrow."